


Lucifer

by Prince_Of_The_Night



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist, D.Gray-man
Genre: Allen Kinda Sees Souls, Crossover, Kanda Yuu Swears a Lot, School, Ships Are In The Background, These Demons Are Different And Allen And Crew Have No Clue What's Going On
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 03:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_Of_The_Night/pseuds/Prince_Of_The_Night
Summary: [ON UNINTENTIONAL HIATUS until further notice due to school and my personal life. Sorry.]It was 200 years that past and everyone seemed to forget about the Black Order, the Exorcists, and Innocence. It was peaceful, up until the reappearance of someone thought to be long dead...[Cross-posted on Fanfiction.net.]





	1. Prologue: May We Meet Again

The four of them were huddled under a white cape, the cloak acting as a shield to protect them from their enemies. It was their last chance.

“We’re going to die!” the short-haired girl yelled through the wind. Lenalee’s normally calm and commanding voice now wavered like a daisy in the final summer storm.

“We’ll be fine!” Allen roared over the turbulent air. “We’ll get out of here, then we’ll get ice cream,and go home, and Komui will be worried, but we’ll be okay!” His panting breaths were heavy; as was the blood leaking through his now off-white shirt.

Lavi’s face held a seriousness that rarely any had seen in any previous times. He grabbed his female companion’s hand, grounding both her and himself. When he spoke, the sound of his voice split through the thrashing currents of the gale that had long tossed away his headband.

“And if we die?” The tone was grave and the words settled like heavy stones in the pots of their stomachs, giving the four the feeling as though they were attending their own funeral.

Kanda, who had been silently glaring at the ground for the duration of the conversation, looked up. He met each of their eyes and each witnessed an emotion that only one (currently) living person had seen before.

“If we die? Then I hope we meet again,” he spoke softly, as the howling wind died down, shocking his friends.

Allen grinned at the long-haired samurai, “May we meet again.”

Lavi’s cheer somewhat returned hope fluttering in his chest, ”May we meet again.”

And, despite how watery and teary-eyed it was, Lenalee smiled, ”May we meet again.”

Kanda drew Mugen, its blade glinting in the low lighting, ”May we meet again.”

All of them were solemn as they prepared to renew their battle. With a nod from all of his companions, Allen pulled Crown Clown back against his body. The sky fell down upon the Exorcists in the form on Akuma, ranging from Level One all the to Level Four.

So they fought. The four fought with body, heart, and soul. They fought until they could fight no more,and then they keep fighting, as though the fate of the world rested on their shoulders. And it did.

The controlled army of agonized souls pulled back, before rushing in again. As the demons converged on the small group, they focused on the fated Destroyer of Time.

At the center of it all, there was a flash of bright green; four bodies dropped and rested at the center of the victorious monsters as they cheered over the corpses.

Looking on from far off, out of sight, She frowned. This wouldn’t this wouldn’t work. Not at all.


	2. Chapter 1: The Angel Dressed In Black

‘Protect.’

The single command sung throughout their dreams. It forced them awake and beckoned them outside. So they walked, trance-like, to the edge of the forest.

And there they saw it. It hovered just before the treeline. The crystal was large, bigger than most of their teacher, and it was the same beautiful shade and shape as raw, uncut emerald.

  
However, what shocked them the most was the fact that an old man seemed to be encased within the gem. The longer they stared, the more they realized that the jewel was slowly disintegrating.

It took five minutes of silence before the crystal completely disappeared. The sleeping old man collapsed to the ground after spending a moment suspended in the air. The thump of his body landing harshly shocked the students out their stupor. They rushed forward.

Upon closer inspection, it was revealed that he was not an old man as they had thought, but rather a striking adolescent boy, roughly the same age as the motley crew of Exwires.

His hair was the same pure shade as freshly fallen snow that had been left untouched. He was almost as pale skinned, and what they could see of his face was even paler, like that of a corpse. The left side of his face was wrapped in bandages, the corresponding eye hidden behind a medical eyepatch.

One of the students leaned forward, inspecting the stranger’s clothes. The white button up, black slacks, and black vest looked like something you would dress a deceased family member in for a funeral. A red ribbon tied back his long, pearl hair back. Yet, despite outward appearances, he seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

The curious student pulled back, eyes on the new arrival. He looked to his friends in confusion, “So… What should we do about this?”

One of the other boys took charge, “Moriyama, go get Yukio. We might as well let him take control of the situation.”

The girl in question ran off, headed towards the school. As she vanished from sight, she left her friends in the cold darkness.

~O~O~

Allen was in the 14th’s secret room. That should have been impossible, but here he was. Sitting in front of the piano, fingers resting on the keys, the urge to play strong.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, but he had long become accustomed to the surprise hugs. Instead of reacting, he played. He played with his fingers dancing along the piano keys. He played the 14th’s song.

“Things are changing, Allen,” the soft voice murmured in the tow-head’s ear.

Allen did not stop playing, as he always finished a song, no matter what. Instead, he questioned his companion.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

The man in question hummed in agreement, resting his head on Allen’s shoulder. He was bored, but content to listen to Allen’s music.

Allen finished and turned to his uncle, “Do tell.”

“T-tell what?” Neah spoke, shifting away from his nephew.

“You obviously know something. What is changing?” Allen was calm, but he would not allow something so obviously important slip away..

“Alright, you got me,” Neah sighed, “When you wake up, the world will be… different.”

“Different? How?” Allen raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, that’s… That’s hard to explain. But perhaps it’s best to say it this way: We’re most likely in a parallel world.”

The towhead opened his mouth to reprimand his not telling him sooner, or maybe question him, when his vision wen blurry. His eyes grew wide and the room went dark.

“We’ll talk later, Allen.” Said cursed boy heard his uncle whisper as he fell asleep. Although, maybe it would be better to say he did not fall unconscious, as rather to say he woke up.

~O~O~

Rin Okumura had been the one to haul the odd boy back to True Cross. But, despite the orders the teachers gave, Rin was not the only one to wait for the whitette to awaken. Instead, all recently named Exwires sat near the bed.

What was perhaps the most intriguing, though it was Yukio who pointed it out, thing was the bandages all the way up the mystery boy’s left arm and the black gloves made of soft, matte leather. Or maybe it was the black tattoo spiralling out of his left shoulder. None of the Exorcists-in-training could agree.

But now, all was lost as they watched the young man slowly open his eyes (eyes? They weren’t sure.), to reveal chromium eyes (eye?). Just as slowly, he pulled himself up into a sitting position and stared at the rag-tag group.

Suddenly, as it was not expected, much less was the talking, he smiled. “You’re very pretty. All joy and purple and pink, but I don’t like that yellow. And warm, very warm. So, so, very pretty,” he told Shiemi, almost delirious.

He fell back against the mattress. “Oh, yes,” he murmured, ”You have a very pretty soul. So innocent.”

Soul. he had not been talking about Shiemi herself, but rather the essence of the girl. He had been talking about her soul. The very thought of it was unimaginable.

“Who are you?” The question appeared out of nowhere, and so did Yukio.

The change was immediate. The white-haired boy sprung back up and was silent for a moment, as though judging the group in front of him for the first time. As though he was finally clear-headed. “My name is Allen Walker,” he finally said.

~O~O~

She relaxed into the steaming water, sighing pleasurably. After all, hot baths were her kryptonite.

Slinking a dripping arm out, Her hand clasped the smooth, rotund object beside Her. She pulled her limbs up, holding her war-spoil in Her hands above Herself.

The skull was smooth and pearly in color. The only thing that remained intact on the freshly harvested cranium was the long black hair that hung a curtain, bordering on navy blue.

Envisioning the beautiful, young man the remains had once belonged to, She smiled up at Her prize, “You were such a pretty boy,” she paused before adding, “Yuu.”


	3. Chapter 2: Demon In Disguise?

Mephisto stared at the boy in front of him. Though he could he the shape of the tall, young man, his face was hidden in the cowl of a large hood. "I'll cut you a deal," Mephisto proposed after a moment. "Wait two weeks. Then I'll introduce you as a transfer from the Vatican. Your meister will be a knight." 

Though his face was concealed, one could tell his brows were raised from the tone of confusion and agitation in his voice. "I understand things are different, but what the fuck is a meister? Or a knight, for that matter?" 

Mephisto chuckled lightly, "Shura can explain. But you have a lovely sword, so of course you'll be a knight. Now then, I have other matters to attend to." As he  _ poofed  _ out, Mephisto was almost completely sure he heard his guest mutter something along the lines of "Well, fuck you, too." 

**_~O~O~_ **

Allen stared at the oddly dressed man in front of him. One could compare him to the Earl (though this man was much slimmer),  but Allen was easily more stunned by the proposition he had been offered, rather than the clown-esque man before the boy. 

Upon waking, the towhead had been disoriented and out of it, and the mass of colorful auras and brightly shimmering souls certainly did nothing to help. Instead it was the question asked -- though it was simple, it also acted like an anchor -- that had grounded the whitette. 

And then, to top it all off, a strange-looking man had popped, literally, into the room, shuffled out all the kids, students, Allen supposed, and given him the choice to become an Exorcist for the True Cross Order. 

True Cross Order. But then, what happened to the Black Order? Where did they go? And just what had happened with the Earl and the Noah? They didn't seem to be here. Sure, Neah had been trying to explain since before the odd man, Mephisto, had appeared, for easily over an hour, but all Allen caught of the faced and jumbled words were a few key phrases: "time travel" "maybe a parallel world" "maybe" "all your friends" and "probably dead". It didn't sound very promising. Allen shook his head to clear it. 

"Excuse me, sir?" Mephisto stopped his insistent rambling and turned to peer at the ever-polite Exorcist. "Mr. Pheles, can you tell me something?" Allen continued at a short nod from the purple-haired man, "Um...What kind of demons do you fight, exactly?" 

Yukio stepped in to explain, as he was the only other living soul left in the room, "There are several levels and many kinds of demons. Because of the fact that there are ways to kill these numerous kinds of demons, there're varied meisters people can learn and develop to defeat demons with." 

Reeling with the information, Allen nodded,  _ You get that, Neah? _

**_Yeah,_ ** _ his uncle responded, finally having quieted down. _

_ I see,  _ Allen mused internally, thoughts coming to the surface of his mind. Thoughts of the place he called "home". 

**_It's possible for you to get home, you know._ **

_ Yeah, I do. Perhaps, I can become one of  _ their  _ Exorcists to pass time while I look for a way back home.  _

**_It's your choice alone, nephew._ **

_ My choice,  _ Allen echoed back. 

Finally, Allen blinked, clearing the dusty thoughts away. They could wait. Instead, he focused on the question he was about to ask. Nervous, yet sure this was the right thing to do, the right choice, he cleared his throat and voiced his inquiries, "Mr. Pheles, would it be alright if I asked to be an Exorcist?" 

Mephisto grinned, clapping his hands together, "Perfekt! I'll tell the teachers immediately!" He popped away. 

"Teachers?" Allen asked warily. 

"You'll be attending True Cross Academy, and the cram school where the Exorcists-to-be are taught," Yukio informed him. 

The towhead hung his head,  _ I knew this was too good to be true. I always have rotten luck. _

**_You should have seen this coming, Allen._ **

_ Neah? _

**_Yeah?_ **

_ Shut up. _

**_~O~O~_ **

She dragged the knife across the table, carving the scar from that cursed boy into the wood. The stick of a lollipop dangled out of Her mouth. Despite how young and innocent She looked, playing with the pink umbrella, looks could be deceiving, as proven by the sadistic girl. 

Her uncle glanced down a Her, "You're a strange one, aren't you?" 

"And you're not?" She chirped back. She hummed a nonsensical song, before speaking once again, in a sing-song voice, "I have a plan. A big one. Lots of death and pain. You know why? It's cause 'm gonna kill him. But I'll torture him first, of course." 

Knotting the tie around His neck, He looked towards His niece who was now poking a painting with Her sharp knife, floating in the air, all while the painting protested loudly. Smirking devilishly, He asked the question She was obviously waiting for, “And who will you kill?" 

She shook Her head, "Mm-mm. Guess." 

He sighed at Her antics, but, being so used to them, He relented easily enough. "Is it an Exorcist?" He ventured. 

She cast Him a withering glare, "Of course. Do you even try?" 

"Alright, alright," He chuckled lightly. "Have I met him?" 

She thought for a moment, "Yes, but only in passing." 

"Have I fought him?" 

"Yes." 

"Do I have some sort of relation to him?" 

She made a face halfway between a smile and a sneer, "Yes, we do." 

He opened His mouth to ask another question but He was interrupted by a young female servant rushing in. She bowed her head, long blonde tresses falling over her masked face. "My Lord! Lady Kamelot! The Master wishes for your presence, my Lords!" she cried, as though afraid she would be struck down for interrupting Their bantering conversation; and she might have been, if She wasn't so odd. 

"Now, now," He said, resting a hand on His niece's head. "We should see what the Master wants, shouldn't?" 

"Alright!" She sung happily, tugging gently on the hair of Her favorite servant, before She turned to the door. 

As they left, She tossed Her knife over Her shoulder; it hit the table with a loud  _ thunk!  _ where it landed in the center of the pentacle She had carved earlier. 

**_~O~O~_ **

Angel glared at the girl before him. He, the current Paladin, had been ordered by the Vatican to take her as his  _ apprentice _ . But that was not the problem. At least, not entirely. The  _ real  _ problem was the girl herself. The girl he was supposed to make an Exorcist could never be one, not in his eyes. 

She was a paraplegic. 

The short girl sat somewhat despondent in her wheelchair, staring down the glass bottle that was stopped by a cork. The liquid inside was thicker than blood and left no traces on the sides of the container, as though a thin shield split the two. It was almost the olive-black as the girl's short, pixie hair. Angel had watched some strange clergyman that he, nor she it appeared, didn't know hand her the flagon with the instructions to drink it when she was alone. However, now the girl simply glared at the cruet, eyes filled with hatred and determination. 

Sending one last scowl over his shoulder to the young woman, he stalked away, but he knew she was following him. "I would say it was nice to meet you, Lenalee, but that would be a lie," he said icily, not bothering to listen to her mumbled reply .


	4. Chapter 3: As Old As Time

Lavi wasn’t ready to die, but he was sure that was what was happening. Okay, so  _ maybe  _ he was being overdramatic, but  _ come on.  _ It was the biggest, hugest, most  _ impossibly large  _ building he had ever seen.  _ And  _ it was a  _ library,  _ of all things. Lavi wasn’t sure whether to be ecstatic or terrified. 

It had been Him who had given the rabbit-esque boy the authorization to be in there, and Lavi wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. After all, He had been there, next to Lavi when he woke. And the first one to realize,  _ to know,  _ that Lavi was an Exorcist.  _ This could be a problem,  _ Lavi thought, sighing. Well, he might as well get a start on reading. There was a lot he had to do.

_ But I’ll find you Allen. I swear it. _

**_~O~O~O~_ **

Lady Kamelot Borgia was well feared - and for good reason, too. She was the kind of woman who would help you pick  up a broken dish one moment, then gouge out your eye in the next, simply because you looked her in the eye to thank her. She sent chills down the spine of everyone who laid eyes on her.

But cruelty was not the only thing she possessed. Kamelot was also a woman of great, ineffable beauty. Her hair hung down her back like a great curtain of water, the same soft shade as the smooth oak doors. Her eyes were diamonds, cold and hard, but the palest blue that caught the light like an oil slick. She was as pale as the moon - in some places along her uncovered back and shoulders you could even see the frost blue and heather purple veins, though that seemed to add to her inhuman beauty - and just as majestic.

And now, storming through the halls, as determined and destructive as a live five hurricane, her vision captured the eyes of everyone around her. And to think, she was only 14 - well, 14 if you went by human years and records. As Kamelot stalled in front of the large, ornately decorated door made of polished walnut, she allowed the crystal-embedded hem of the cobalt dress she wore to pool around her ankles and feet, flow out like rivulets of pure blue. She knocked, light as a feather.

“Who is it?” a soft voice asked. It was hushed, like it was telling a secret, and the warm timbre coated the sound with chocolate or honey, something rich and smooth.

“It’s me,” Kamelot said, biting back a “you old baboon” thrown into her words. Somewhere along the line, she had lost her uncle,leaving her to deal with Master. Alone. It was not that she disliked the man she served, nor that he was so hideous it was hard to look him in the eye. In fact, Master was a very handsome young man. The problem was that he was always either very straight to the point, or he got easily distracted and the next thing you know, it’s four in the morning and he’s asked you to have midday tea with him.

“Oh! Kami, come in! Come in!” Rolling her eyes at the silly nickname, the youngest Borgia daughter entered the room. She hadn’t been wrong when she said he was a young man. Very young indeed - by both human and  _ other  _ standards. Although he appeared only to be in his mid to early teens, roughly 15, he was, give or take a decade, in truth only 840 or so years.

Softly closing the door, Kamelot tipped herself into a slight bow, before seating herself across from Master. The boy was a sight to see, she’d admit. With all the eccentricity that seemed to run in the family, he was somewhat handsome, but odd nonetheless.

Silvery hair and amber eyes, watermelon button-ups and lime vests, form-fitting cobalt pants and butterscotch belts, honey and marigold bowties and scarlet Oxfords. Master reminded her of a certain exuberant, purple- goateed man whose name may or may not have rhymed with  _ Pesto Smells. _ But unlike his older brother, Master was content in simply watching the world, feeling no reason to change what is already a fabulous disaster.

“Kami,” Master announced from where he sat hovering, upside down, sitting crisscross applesauce in the air, after a comfortable moment of silence. “Do you see him?” He wildly swung a hand out to randomly point at one of the  _ many  _ mirrors. It rippled for a moment before clearing up, revealing the image on a certain white-haired exorcist sat in an infirmary. “I want him…” the tawny-eyed demon trailed off as he righted himself and stood (sat) in front of Kamelot, his face only an inch or two from hers. “ _ Alive. _ ” He pulled back and grinned again. “But you can play with him all you want, my dear Kamelot,” he sung before giggling at the semi-rhyme.

“Of course,  _ Ana _ ,” Kamelot smiled too, before standing from her seat and bowing. She left the room in a hurry, mind ablaze with more ideas.

**_~O~O~O~_ **

Allen sighed, closing his book. Two years of knowledge and happenings recorded in his head, plus one week in the infirmary, chock-full of reading everything about this seemingly new exorcism Order and ways, had left Allen mentally exhausted and sure that he now knew just as much - if not more - as the other exorcism students he would join. Closing his eyes and rubbing a hand across his forehead to ease away a dull, almost non-existent headache, he sighed deeply again.

He was ready. Or at least as ready as he’d ever be.


	5. Chapter 4: They Tell Me I'm Crazy, But You Told Me I'm Golden

If you were to ask a certain grey-eyed boy, he would most definitely assure you that he was capable of taking care of himself. And, perhaps if you caught him in a particular mood, Allen would huff and claim that something as simply done was not a problem for him at all, because  _ mind you, I have beaten level 4’s easily enough _ . However, one did not really have to ask, as the situation could be clearly seen with one’s own two eyes.

Now, for someone who had never once actually attended a formal school and instead learned from life on the streets, Allen considered himself a relatively studious person. Nonetheless, he always,  _ always _ followed through. But in this instance, he was peculiarly determined to know  _ everything _ . It was an odd sentiment when spoken, but in practice Allen even surprised himself. Day and night he hardly left his dorm, save of his classes, running himself into the ground with reading, homework, and a inexplicable need to understand, to know, what might have happened to his friends. He had, in layman’s terms, become a ghost. In classes he hardly interacted, not even noticing Bon’s slight contempt that Allen had easily become top of class; nor had he even noticed that the decrepit building also homed the Okumura twins - not that they remembered either as he didn’t seem to exist outside of school.

Within classes even, Allen simply asked, answered, and copied notes as need be. Perhaps because of this - or in conjunction, maybe - the Exwires payed him little attention, as they already had their dynamic perfectly working and there was no more room for another cog to fit in the proverbial wheel. And that was how that first week and a half had been. Thus brings us to Allen’s problem - not that it was a problem, mind you.

In those dead hours of tired night when the Exorcist - a real, true Exorcist, not this Bible and holy water copycat -  collapsed into bed, utterly exhausted and drained, that he found himself thinking of his friends. He would remember it all: the little fights between Kanda and Lavi over the silliest, simplest of things; Lenalee who was so much a sister to him that he had fallen asleep on her shoulder many times; Lavi’s constant, friendly teasing. Miranda and her constant fright and anxiety that Allen had easily enough learned to calm. Krory and his kindness and how he was a good man, bar nothing. It made Allen’s heart ache and twist his gut. Sometimes he wondered if they were all dead - and, as horrible as it may be, it gave him an odd sense of comfort to think it, as though to feel reassured that they didn’t feel as worried or scared as he was. (For he was undoubtedly scared of what this could mean. Allen also supposed that he should have had some kind of culture shock, but then again - growing up on the streets made him far too adaptable for his liking.)

All of it had lead (through the subtle flap of a hurricane-causing butterfly’s wings ***** ) to this exact moment. It was a Thursday, the second that Allen had been there, attending the classes, when the door smoothly opened. Most of the class, most being the key word, looked towards the man standing in the doorway. His hair was black and long, swept up and gathered by a clip on the top back of his head. He wore the Exwire’s uniform, and a Japanese katana ***** hung from his hip. The man cast a harsh glance around the room, taking it in. Then, he stiffened.

Allen, unlike everyone else in the room, had simply continued to write down notes. He hummed some song he had briefly heard gently, “ _ Never know who'll walk through the door. Is it someone that you've met before? _ ” Dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s, he finished writing what he was supposed to. It was only then that he noticed the silence of the room. Allen looked up to ask what was wrong, only to stop as his breath left him and his ribcage tightened. There, still standing in the doorway, was Kanda Yuu in all his furious glory, with the look in his eye like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Allen, or hug him. Allen didn’t think he wanted to know the answer.

With a slightly nervous (not at all panicked) chuckle, Allen gave a little wave and said, “Hey, Kanda. Fancy seeing you here, huh?” He saw the grip Kanda had on Mugen, and wasn’t even surprised when only a moment later he found the blade stuck into the wood of the table he sat at. He was just a little (only slightly) worried for his life. However, the rest of the class were not used to Kanda’s idiosyncrasies and reacted how they found due. Which was mostly a lot of screaming of “oh my god, stop him” and “he’s a fucking psychopath”.

Nevertheless, Yukio was the voice of reason, as always. “Everyone! Quiet down!” he shouted, before turning towards Kanda and frowning. “Mr. Kanda, I cannot have you threatening my students.” He was promptly ignored.

Allen smiled, he was unwilling to admit it, but relief and almost (probably definitely) joy still filled him at the thought that at least one of his friends was alive. At Kanda’s expression, he openly laughed and patted Kanda on the head. He ignored the short, quiet growl.

“You should sit down,” he said. The rest of the Exwires stared in disbelief, sure that Allen was somehow oblivious to the situation. But, if one looked closely and knew him as well as Kanda did, they would see the slight tightness to his eyes. A silent ‘ _ you better sit down right now or so help me _ ’. With a huffed ‘che’, Kanda stood and sheathed Mugen in one swift motion before sitting beside the other Exorcist.

“Fucking Moyashi,” he ground out. The stares had now turned to awe and Yukio tried to rein in the class again.

“As I was saying,” the young teacher said loudly once the room had semi-settled down. “We have another new student with us: Kanda Y-”

“It’s just Kanda,” the long haired boy said, very much sounding like he would murder everyone if someone said otherwise. Well, that settled it. And the day continued as it would any other, normal day. For the most part.

\--------------------------------

It was late into the night, in the dorm room that was now ‘ _ theirs _ ’ - and not just ‘ _ Allen’s _ ’ - that they talked. About everything, anything. Where they woke up, how they spent the last two weeks, the possibility of their friends being alive. Roughly 22 minutes after midnight, Allen yawned and curled deeper into Kanda’s side.

“Do you think they’re alright? What if they’re not?” Allen asked, absentmindedly scratching at the back of left hand. Kanda scoffed, eliciting a soft whine of annoyance from the shorter. “Kanda! You’re telling me you’re not worried about them? What if they’re hurt? Somewhere really far away? Jeez, you have no kindness, do you?” The one response he got was a hum, which Allen took as a noncommittal agreement, as conflicting as it was. He yawned again.

“Got to sleep, Moyashi,” Kanda huffed, rolling his eyes. The two Exorcists fell asleep curled up together on Allen’s bed.


End file.
